My heartbeat was a deafening roar in my ears.
My hand trembled as it hovered over the handle of the door. I took a shuddering breath to steady my fractious nerves. My fingers curled around the cool metal handle and my stomach threatened to spill my hasty breakfast across the cement floor.
I braced myself for the wave of anxiety that crashed over me as I opened the door and took a hesitant step into the room. The harsh fluorescent lights threatened to blind me as I blinked like a deer in headlights until a clipped, cultured voice cut through my swirling thoughts.
"Ah, Ms. Samuels. Take a seat." The balding man had his back to me and I nearly jumped out of my skin upon hearing my name. I flushed as I realized I was making somewhat of a scene in front of my classmates. I felt the heat crawling up my neck and quickly shuffled down the endless rows of seats, choosing a spot near the front, far enough away that other students did not crowd me.
Sliding down into the firm, uncomfortable chair, I let out a quiet sigh and cradled my chin in my hand. Professor Gavin was already droning on about the importance of using peer-reviewed sources for our upcoming assignment and my mind started to wander.
My first week of college hadn't exactly gone according to plan.
I'd been 15 minutes late to orientation because of road work, which had given my English professor the idea that I was a bit of a slacker, a reputation I was hoping to improve. To make matters worse, our dryer's heating element had gone out, leaving me with slightly damp, extremely wrinkled clothes.
The day after hadn't been any better. My trusty black bookbag had finally given up the ghost and vomited its contents across the floor of the lecture hall. It seemed like the universe itself was plotting against me this week, with minor inconveniences that tugged at the few threads of fractious sanity I had left.
Taylor and the Wooding siblings had been the only reprieve from the drama at school. Kris immediately sent Dylan up to the store to get me a cheap replacement for my bookbag as soon as I'd gotten home and I was the proud new owner of a neon green drawstring bag. Usually used as a lightweight gym bag, it was brand new, clean, and successfully transported my textbooks to my respective classes.
Taylor had managed to find a 'discounted' heater element at one of the appliance repair businesses in Deleon. I did not doubt that she only asked for a small amount of what the part cost, but none of us were going to look a gift horse in the mouth. I wasn't able to cover as many shifts lately with the addition of college classes to my already hectic schedule and with Kris not working, money was tight.
However, here I was in class, trying to listen intently but getting distracted already. I subtly tapped my phone to see the time. 10:15 AM... I hadn't even lasted 5 minutes.
How do people DO this!?
I forced my eyes to the front of the lecture hall, staring blankly at the projector Professor Gavin was pointing at.
"What is the purpose of a peer review?" Professor Gavin called out.
A few hands went up. A mousy girl near the front with long brunette hair pulled into a high ponytail was the first to answer. "Peer review ensures that the material is accurate, well-written, and original."
Professor Gavin attempted to smile, but his taut face could only manage an amicable grimace. "Thank you, Melody. Yes, in this class, I expect you to use only the best sources for your work. I don't want a lackadaisical summary of a Wikipedia article." He shot a firm look in my direction and I slid down into my chair, my face heating up again.
You'd have thought I'd shot his only friend the way he reacted when I submitted my first assignment using primarily web pages I'd mistakenly thought were credible. The paranoid part of my brain suspected this sudden lecture on appropriate sources was for my benefit.
I pulled my notebook out of my new bag and tried to look like I was taking voracious notes. Instead, I doodled a small rose on the margins of the lined paper.
The lecture hall's ambient hum was soothing to my nerves, Professor Gavin's droning voice struggling to keep the student body engaged. My eyes were fixed on my notebook, pen tightly gripped in my hand, hovering over the page.
The harsh fluorescent lights above flickered periodically, making the occasional shadow dance across the stark white projector screen. The movement caught my eye repeatedly. I blinked, trying to refocus on my meager notes.
A soft rustle of papers from a nearby student's desk pulled my attention away from my work. I couldn't help but steal a quick glance to see what Melody was working on. Her impeccable handwriting made perfect, organized notes naturally. I silently cursed her, wishing I had the same discipline. I looked down at my paper, my loopy, uneven script forming haphazard ideas and concepts taken from the lecture in a nonsensical list.
I stretched, my tired muscles groaning in protest. Maybe early morning classes weren't the best idea.
A faded scar peeking out of my sweater made me smile to myself. I hadn't hurt myself in quite a while now and I was proud of myself for that. Sure, it hadn't been easy and I'd been tempted many times, but I hadn't taken the blade to my skin in months.
Dr. Morgan was equally impressed with my progress, our sessions decreased to every two weeks. Due to my unpredictable schedule, I tended to call her instead of going into her office anymore. I missed seeing the older woman face to face, but given my work and college schedule, I chose to spend my free time with Taylor or The Woodings instead.
I couldn't help the goofy smile that spread across my lips at the thought of the cerulean-haired woman. Since Christmas, the Woodings had been a lot more accepting of Taylor and as a result, we could hang out more often. While our relationship was still a bit touch and go, it was slowly transforming from a tepid friendship into a romantic relationship.
I found myself thinking about her often, and her smile often made my stomach do funny little flips. We hadn't done much more than steal kisses and occasionally cuddle, but I was struck by puppy love for the masculine girl. I glanced down at my notebook, looking at the intricate rose I'd scribbled on the paper. While I wasn't proficient at drawing, my lopsided rose had turned out pretty good.
I turned my attention back to the monotonous drone of Professor Gavin as he began to describe our new assignment for the week. I glanced in disbelief at my phone, checking the time. I'd been so lost in my thoughts I'd spent most of the class daydreaming! I tried to focus on the last part of the lecture, cursing my short attention span, and imploring my consciousness to somehow commit the mind-numbing content to memory.
As we were dismissed, I packed my books into my bag and slung it over my shoulder, wincing as the weight of my textbooks made the straps of my bag cut into my shoulders. I trudged to the front of the lecture hall, trying to avoid the intense stare of my professor.
---
The stress of the school day melted away as I exited my last class. The crisp January breeze nipped at my face and made me shiver.
I practically sprinted to the parking lot, letting out a sigh of relief when I noticed Matt's truck waiting for me. Instead of Matt driving, I was surprised to see Dylan and Kris wave.
As I neared the faded blue Chevy, the acrid scent of gasoline hit me. I could see Kris in the passenger seat and internally groaned. Sitting three wide across the bench seat of the single cab wasn't exactly pleasant, but it was decidedly better than walking.
Dylan exited the truck to let me get in, as it was much simpler for me to awkwardly slide past the steering wheel and squeeze in next to Kris than it was for the injured redhead to hobble out of the car to let me in. The truck groaned faintly in protest as I slid across the bench seat.
Dylan climbed back into the cab and cranked the truck. It roared to life, sending vibrations through the floorboards. We pulled out onto the main highway, leaving the picturesque campus behind us.
"So, how was school today?" Kris asked, idly glancing out the window with her head in her hand.
I grumbled, stubbornly looking ahead at the road and not at Kris, watching the scenery blur into colors and shapes as we accelerated. The two younger Wooding siblings exchanged amused glances. My less-than-stellar English skills were no secret, and I was usually sour when I left Professor Gavin's class.
"That well, huh?" Dylan snickered as we slowed at a red light. I glanced up at the intersection and felt Kris stiffen beside me. It was the intersection near Dr. Morgan's office, where Kris had gotten hurt.
Black marks still stained the road from where Kris' tires had skidded across the pavement that day. I could still hear the sickening sound of crumpling metal and the wail of the ambulance. I could feel the fear pool in the pit of my stomach and looked at an ashen Kris who stared into the intersection with wide eyes.
The air was thick with tension until the light turned green and the Chevy sluggishly drove past the light. I turned to look at Kris and reassuringly patted her leg. "Are you okay, Kris?"
It was a stupid question and I knew that, but I had to ask. As I expected, the redheaded woman shook her head, her wide eyes fixated on the pavement. "It's just really hard to look at that red light the same way since the accident... it feels like I'm suffocating every time I look at that place.."
I sighed. "I know how you feel. It makes me queasy just looking at that place and I wasn't even the one that was hurt. I can only imagine how you feel."
As the light turned green, Kris remained lost in thought. The hum of the engine returned, carrying us away from the weight of the intersection.
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